"valiancy" poems
Into the wonderment of your autumnal mind.
Where the skin of your grief sheds its leaves.
Is the song of your sea bound into colourful light?
The Shepherd breaches the flock of your dreams,
And the pastures breathe a sigh of relief,
As your tears of morning dew
Glisten the parched landscape.
Does your bouquet of *****
Lay wistfully in the wilderness?
The skies of blue that reside in your eyes
Serenades the coming of the tide,
Harvesting the fruit of our labour of love.
Is this a wind of smile that turns into a voyage of valiancy?
A flock of thoughts liberated with a cry of exclamation
As your fears of autumn blue
Are exiled into the rapacious wind.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
Vacant. Empty. Twisted. Lacking.
Chills shoot though my body filling the cracks whatever is left
Let go of the Meaning of LIFE and one is lost
Worried. Angered. Freaked. Spinning.
Words jotted down upon an empty page to show giving proof to rage
Reality is no kind reminder in correction of humanness
Stupidity. Irony. Pathetic. Foolish.
These eyes have absorbed from the outside world all which is meaningless
Vibrant life left behind to retrieve if one is wise
Hope. Love. Joy. Peace.
Never take the God-given gifts taken for granted or hard ways shall teach
Throw them aside as ******* and despair will find what's left
Trash. Pathetic. Waste. Shameful.
Such trash is how I perceive some to view my vehemency
No integrity do they see in what these eyes hold scared
Purity. Integrity. Honesty. Valiancy.
Which spring from the soul and mind diluted from ones first breath in the flesh
Access to God diluted from what cannot be achieved
Sovereignty. Omniscience. Omnipresent. Agape.
Witness madness for what God has been met first hand is just in righteousness
Full of grace and mercy to those who Seek Him
Loving. Wise. Holy. Eternal.
To those Who serve Him He gives of Himself correcting those He loves
Comfort is naught promised for character is His measure
Sanctification. Tried. True. Loyalty.
Purifying His people through teaching His ways is the foremost goal
As choice gold refined and proved accordingly
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 10:24 PM UTC
Él,
Que se lo cruza, que se lo llama,
del mar que viene pero él
que se queda,
y forma todas las playas
de verdades, turbulencias,
¡que sólo los barcos de dignidad
alcáncenlo, ellas!
Yes, surely I am deplored by
the beauty of destructions’ marking, holding dear
what’s longingly perverted
through the lost.
Ravens’ repulsing cries
are the needed on the shores,
not just on the autumn,
the rotting of the sea tales
their voices hold,
the selection of exquisite
that my preference twisted wants.
And so much else I daze over,
that overlay of the Emerald Land’s
waves and beats that
my distant to the south shore pleads,
that jade,
that shock,
that valiancy of the Scots
which in our sands
and crashing skies
should be,
lusts
to be.
The awaiting
for that dripping glory
in a mellowed casing of a wrecking ship,
it’s in a waiting room
made from a lone standing rock
that carries myths and ventures
to fulfill,
the Young Verter’s
everlasting,
tinting
moment.
Show up on our silver days
at the bays,
El Acantilado,
del Norte, caro,
The Cliff, The Cliff,
Ese Acantilado!
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 1:43 PM UTC
Behind the drapes I used to hide.
Regret eventually consumed me.
And although I did prefer to hide,
Valiancy sufficed my needs.
Alibis were not enough for time lost.
Dreams were dreamt not by choice
Oh how I love the sound of my Voice!
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC